Crimson Alchemist Novels & Stories

"I have provided you with my blood, thus with my entire genetic makeup, do with it as you please. But also remember that not all rogues can be redeemed. The antidote works on a very rare set of rogues, those who have yet to give in completely. In other words, the ones who still do not smell like wet dogs." I watched the interactions among the Alphas and the silent battle of wits going on around me. Half of their discussion went right over my head, but from what I could gather, I think none of them trusted Alpha Krimson. Honestly, he did kinda give off that power-hungry tyrant kind of vibe, but who was I to judge other people? I was practically just a lab-rat, who was being experimented on.

He looked up as I entered, his expression wary. “Alison,” he said, his tone cautious. “What’s this about?” I closed the door behind me, tapping Simone to follow which she did. “We found the Crimson Vault,” I said bluntly. His eyes widened, his hand freezing mid-motion. “What?” “It’s real,” I continued. “And Simone here believes it’s sealed with magic. It says we need the Blood of the Alpha that's you, the Sigil of Binding, and the Flame of Truth to open it.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the key components. In fact, it was spelled out for us in the scrolls King Arman kept hidden.” I look at Crimson. He and Tawny had discovered the folder of documents in the palace wall one night. The discovery had played a major part in their relationship and so had Abner. Crimson sits listening, watching. His yellow eyes all seeing. It was his biological father that set today’s events in motion and it was his mate that beheaded him in one epic blow. No one knew, not even Kolby Crimson himself, the extent of his mystical magical. He was strong, fast, and could shift sizes and colors. He was attracted to magic and magic was drawn to him. Anything beyond

I could see the Alphas of the Varg and Lupin Packs. Both Alpha Carl and Alpha Lili looked very charismatic. That really got me excited yet nervous. After all, they were very experienced Alphas compared to me. Then, I saw the Bloody Fangs. Most notable was the Crimson Warrior. That infamous warrior was coming here. He still wore his crimson helmet. Nevertheless, I had to admit that there was a strong threatening air around him. In fact, it almost made him on par with Alpha Carl in terms of how dominant his aura was. Not only that, there were other creatures as well. Indeed, there were other creatures. Vampires, mermaids, giants, dwarves, and dragons.

WE ALL STAND QUIETLY on the path leading up the dark-gloomy castle entrance as the three matrons carry out a ritual. Seven small outcropping rocks lie spread wide apart in a horizontal line at the path leading to the castle steps and Oniko with the assistance of Bashir and Biola moves to each of the rocks, taking one of the seven rams that had been made available for the ritual, slaughtering the rams upon it and letting the blood spill upon the rock while the matrons follow them from behind chanting incantations.

***** Cassandra walks down the corridor heading for her quarters, the dark stone walls of the palace walls unsettling as they always have, as she turns the corner she comes face to face with Ophelia, a fellow witch and also the bane of her existence. Ophelia smiles, her fiery red hair framing her face, her green eyes gleaming an unusual colour in the dim corridor. Her cloak conceals her entire form. Ophelia is a gifted witch who, unlike her, has everything delivered to her door with a single snap of her pretty fingers. On the other hand, Cassandra has to work day and night to finally reach where she is today and be able to earn a spot in Lord Carlton elite soldiers. But what is unexpected fo

She looked out over the wolves who had come to witness her crowning, seeing faces she knew and faces she did not, seeing hope and fear and love and uncertainty. I am not the Luna you expected, she continued. I am not the gentle mate who stands quietly at her Alpha's side. I am not the traditional leader who follows paths worn smooth by generations before. I am something else entirely. She paused, letting her words settle. I am the Crimson heir. I carry three thousand years of power in my blood. I have fought and bled and nearly died for every wolf in this valley. And I will continue to fight, to bleed, to die if necessary, for the future we build together.

Because the answer had been forming quietly in the back of his mind ever since he smelled her in the cave years ago. “Your bloodline,” he said slowly. Regina frowned. “My family isn’t special.” Aldric shook his head slightly. “Crimson Hollow’s Alpha line is one of the oldest in the region,” he explained. “Strong wolves. Strong healing.” Regina’s expression darkened. “So he wanted power.” “Most likely.” The thought made Aldric’s jaw tighten. If Rafael had targeted Regina deliberately… Then her kidnapping had never been random. It had been planned. A cold realization settled over him.

He could not even find a spot in the lowest rungs of the criminal ladder. The last anyone heard of Sebastian, he was a ghost of his former self, haunting the grimiest parts of the slums and docks. His clothes were rags, his leg a festering wound, and his mind a foggy mess. He clung to life in the filth, surviving on scraps and the pity of strangers. Whenever someone passed by, he would latch onto their sleeve, rambling and sometimes bursting into wild laughter or tears. "I am Sebastian Vitale! The lord of the Vitale house! Bow and kiss my ring, you insects!

A single drop could paralyze a Grandmaster-level Spiritual Beast in three seconds, turning muscle to stone and blood to jelly. At the same time, as the needles cut silently through the air, he crushed a rice-sized crystal hidden between his fingers. A completely colorless and odorless mist instantly spread, dissolving into the air around Brahma. It was the Miasma of the Rotting Heart, an alchemical poison that worked more slowly, corrupting the soul from within, causing unspeakable hallucinations and mental anguish before finally claiming its victim's life. A dual attack from an assassin. One fast and lethal, the other slow and torturous. His last ace.